


where there is love

by Imagineitdear



Series: where there is love, there is a way [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Awesome Peggy Carter, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Fluff and Smut, For the sake of the porn, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Knight Steve, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Mostly used tag because, Multi, Multiple Sex Positions, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past break-up, Princess Peggy, Some Plot, World War Threesome, homosexual bucky barnes, prince bucky, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagineitdear/pseuds/Imagineitdear
Summary: “The prince has had trouble performing. He prefers the company of men.”“Pegs—” Bucky starts, flushing and looking down at the floor.“I know you love me, darling,” she continues easily, “I know. But all the love in the world cannot change your soul.”Laid out clearly like that, Steve begins to understand the problem. But he cannot fathom the solution.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! This is my second time writing for this fandom. I'm very excited to share this. I discovered the 'World War Threesome' tag and I've never been the same. I wish it was longer, so I figured I should contribute. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I do want to put an added warning in case the tags don't make it clear: Bucky and Peggy have an arranged marriage, and he's gay. So consent between them is just a tad more dubious than usual arranged marriages, even though they both very much consent in this fic. Don't read if you don't like.

A sharp knock on the door interrupts the jovial sounds and songs of Sir Steven’s fellow comrades. They’ve been celebrating the glorious ending of the tourney raucously, with improvised ballads and shouts on Steve’s behalf. Sir Timothy goes to open it, the rest turning back to their conversations with little care. The door is quickly forgotten. Steve only pays half his attention on them, however, eyes still on the door. He feels it before he hears it.

 

“The king requests Sir Steven’s presence straight away,” a messenger tells Timothy, who looks back only to see Steve already standing.

 

He doesn’t know what this is about, of course. But since the last duel that evening, when Steve held up his sword in triumph and was crowned in a wreath of flowers by King George himself, he saw something in the royal family’s eyes. The king, the queen. In the eyes of Princess Margaret, especially.

 

The only one who didn’t spare him a glance was Prince James. Not surprising, even if it still stings. He hasn’t said a word to Steve in three years.

 

“Of course,” Steve says, bowing his head briefly and saluting the men as they hoot and shout protests of his leave. Timothy stops him with a wink.

 

“You’ll be appointed General, mark my words,” he says, grinning. Steve laughs, shaking his head.

 

He is led up to the castle, to the royal household, and taken to a warmly-furnished room where he is left in the company of the king.

 

King George looks tired where he sits, crown-less. More than he seemed today at the tourney, though Steve supposes that is the royal way. They put on their regal air like a magic cloak, concealing the human underneath. Just as Prince James was _Prince James_ to his people, and _Bucky_ only to his close friends. His brothers-in-arms, while the war was on.

 

Steve wonders which Princess Margaret calls him now.

 

One of the largest hearths Steve’s ever seen is lit, burning against the half of his body it reaches as he bows low for the king. King George bids him rise quickly, expression not changing. He looks Steve up and down for a very uncomfortable minute, nothing kind nor malicious in his eyes. It is merely a scrutinizing stare, as if he is looking for the answer to a great question.

 

Finally the man sighs, meeting Steve’s eyes with his old, gray ones. The same color as Bucky’s. “I married late in life,” he starts in his gravelly voice. “A mistake. Thirty three years of age, no heir. Took my queen another three years to birth me a son, and then she passed after bearing a daughter.”

 

King George stops there; Steve wonders if he’s expecting a response. But the old man merely shuffles in his high-backed chair, looking into the fire sadly before continuing. “He grew up a great soldier. I don’t need to tell you that—you fought at his side. I am aware of my son’s accomplishments. He will make a great king, and soon.”

 

His eyes flit back up to Steve, who feels more uncomfortable by the second. He can hear the “but,” in the man’s tale already, and a cold feeling turns his stomach at what it might be. Why he would call Steve, to speak of his son’s deeds. There is little else it could be.

 

“My lord,” Steve starts, bending to a knee and bowing his head.

 

It might have been another soldier who finally let it slip; they weren’t always careful. It might have been Bucky himself, though Steve cannot fathom why the man would admit to such to his own father. But it does not matter. The king will have his head. Steve never expected less.

 

“Be still,” King George raises a hand, stern. Steve closes his mouth, not sure what he would say anyway.

 

He realizes: he won’t apologize.

 

“My son has his own afflictions, as any man,” the king says. “Ones our mage Erskine will not, or ‘cannot,’ as he claims, take away. Afflictions that prove difficult to produce an heir.”

 

Steve snaps his head up, instantly worried. What sickness could Bucky have, that Erskine cannot combat? Had he been injured in the war without Steve’s knowledge? No. Memories of the contrary, of the _very functional, healthy_ state of Bucky’s genitals, pervade Steve’s thoughts, and he quickly shakes them away. Not that.

 

“Your grace?” he asks, though the king seems to have expected his confusion.

 

“Erskine has spoken with the prince and princess to find a solution. Princess Margaret was to choose a suitable knight for the task ahead. She chose you, during the tourney. It will require months, perhaps years, of service from you. If you accept.”

 

“I will serve however my lord requires,” Steve agrees without thought, though he adds, “whatever service it may be. This task . . . ?”

 

“They will explain,” the king says, and he rises. Steve bows his head, stiffening in surprise when he feels the old man clap a hand on his shoulder. King George uses it to urge Steve closer, leaning down so the man can whisper in his ear, “I trust you to keep your silence on this matter, son.” The _Or else_ is very much implied.

 

Steve nods, and the king squeezes with his hand before letting go and leaving the room without a backward glance.

 

Steve feels all at once chilled and feverish, with the burning fire on his left and the drafty chamber seeping through his clothes. No one replaces the king in the room, leaving him alone and without a clue as to what to do. Of course, he’s still at a loss regarding the purpose of this meeting, if it wasn't to chop off his head for sodomizing the prince of Gath. What exactly has he agreed to? Something about a task, serving the prince and princess in some capacity. The task . . . to help them conceive? To help Bucky in his affliction?

 

How exactly is Steve supposed to accomplish that?

 

Just when he wonders if he should follow after the king and request a bit of clarity, a door behind him opens. Steve turns quickly only to bow again, this time at the presence of Princess Margaret.

 

She does not wear the stunning, ruby-colored gown from the tourney. Steve swallows, taking in the delicate silk underclothes the princess wears, the long curl of her dark hair let down and draped over one shoulder. He feels his face go red, and not from the fire’s heat. She's beautiful. He already knew that, saw her from the crowd many times, always at Prince James' side. He couldn't help hating her for that.

 

“Pardon me, your grace, I did not mean—” he starts, stepping back to leave. Clearly he should have departed from this room long ago. But he can’t verbally blame the king, even if he was the one who left Steve in here.

 

He freezes in shock when the princess lets out a delightful laugh; not at all girlish, rich and full, and the mirth stays in her dark, sparkling eyes even after the sound ends. Steve stares, dumbstruck. “King George left you here for me to fetch,” she explains, smirking, and Steve’s lips form a small ‘o’ of understanding. But that doesn’t explain—

 

“Come here,” she beckons with an un-gloved hand, a direct order, so he hesitantly moves closer. She keeps beckoning when he stops, so he takes a few careful steps further. Then Princess Margaret closes the rest of the distance herself and puts a small, soft hand against his cheek. Her lips curve, seemingly pleased. “I see why, I think,” she says, not making any sense.

 

Steve comes to himself and steps back, feeling a sudden frustration that he’s not being told what’s going on. “Princess,” he starts, but she merely reaches forward to grab his hand and begins leading him toward the door from which she came.

 

“What did the king explain?” she asks, pulling him into a narrow, stone corridor. Steve lets himself be led.

 

“Very little,” he says, letting the frustration leak into his voice. “Where are you taking me?”

 

“To my chambers,” she answers bluntly, stopping at a thick wooden door, and Steve blanches.

 

“No,” he says, pulling his hand free from hers. Disgust suddenly curls into his gut, cold realization chilling him. The ‘task’ he is supposed to perform.

 

“Steven—”

 

“No, I will not do such a thing to Bu—to Prince James. He, he deserves—better. I will not, not—” Steve’s cheeks burn, but he gets out, “ _lie_ with you—not even if the king commands it.” Even if she could possibly be the most beautiful woman in the world, Steve could never. Not to Bucky's wife, for his sake and for Steve's. Besides, he's loathed her even long before he set eyes on her.

 

Princess Margaret’s eyes change. The playful brightness gives way to something warm, something aching. Love. Sadness. It surprises him. “Prince James agreed with Erskine. This might be the only way.”

 

“That doesn’t change—”

 

“You won’t be lying with me,” she cuts him off with, chin rising up defensively.

 

Steve blinks, not understanding, not until Princess Margaret opens up her chamber door and pulls him inside.

 

Bucky looks up from where he sits, at the edge of a huge bed.

 

The prince hasn’t changed. He’s in a loose nightshirt instead of chain mail and armour, but his dark hair is mussed and his chin is clefted and his gray eyes still betray a whole world behind them. The latter widen as he recognizes Steve, standing up quickly just as Steve bows low.

 

“Steve,” he says, shocked. Steve can relate.

 

“You do know each other,” the princess says, her voice strangely neutral. Bucky’s eyes flicker to her uncertainly.

 

“We—”

 

“We were in the same squadron, during the war,” Steve steps in quickly with, and Bucky nods gratefully, sitting back down. The princess goes to stand in front of Bucky, putting a hand on his cheek and tilting his head up towards her.

 

“Darling, I saw how you looked at him during the tourney,” she says quietly. Steve feels his cheeks color, and Bucky shuts his eyes, gusting out a breath. It sounds like quiet defeat.

 

“During the war . . .” he starts, but the princess puts a thumb over his lips.

 

“I understand,” she says with a smile, and turns to flash it at Steve.

 

But she can’t really understand. If she did, Steve would be sent to the gallows by now.

 

Bucky grabs her hand and kisses the palm of it. They look very much a couple; they have been, for the better part of two years. Steve wonders if he should leave. If he’s interpreted this wrong all over again when the prince says to his bride, “You truly love me.”

 

“I do,” she replies, eyes going aching and sad like they were earlier. Steve takes a step closer to the door. He can't watch this. But his boots scuff against the stone, and both her and Bucky turn to look at him.

 

Margaret looks warm and friendly. Bucky looks guarded, hesitant.

 

“I don’t understand—” Steve starts weakly, and the princess quickly leaves her husband to reach Steve’s side.

 

“We are unable to conceive,” she says, and gently takes one of Steve’s forearms and tugs him toward the bed. Toward Bucky. “The prince has had trouble performing. He prefers the company of men.”

 

“Pegs—” Bucky starts, flushing and looking down at the floor.

 

“I know you love me, darling,” she continues easily, “I know. But all the love in the world cannot change your soul.”

 

Laid out clearly like that, Steve begins to understand the problem. But he cannot fathom the solution.

 

“Princess Margaret—” he starts, but she doesn’t heed him, sitting down next to Bucky and pulling Steve down to join them.

 

“Call me Peggy,” she says, and reaches over to quickly peck him on the lips. Steve blinks in shock, the ghost of her lips tingling against his own.

 

“Peggy,” he repeats dumbly, blinking.

 

Bucky chuckles, though it quickly cuts off when Steve meets his eyes. “. . . well. Hello,” he says, one side of his mouth tugging up. "It's been a while."

 

“Hello,” Steve replies, simply baffled by this situation. What is he supposed to do?

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky starts, though he doesn’t finish with what. Steve can guess: for ordering him to leave that night, without even a true goodbye; for ignoring him ever since; for doing his royal duty and marrying a foreign princess.

 

But Steve understands why. Even if he wishes he didn’t.

 

He nods, and Bucky’s smile grows a little wider. The princess looks between them, realization dawning on her face. “Oh, my poor darling,” she says to Bucky, wrapping arms around his neck in a gentle embrace. “You loved him, didn’t you.”

 

Steve really isn’t sure about that much, and Bucky shuts his eyes tight, not letting them betray the truth either way. When the princess lets go she puts a hand on either of their cheeks. “This will be an even happier reunion then,” she announces, looking very pleased. Bucky smiles at her, then Steve. Steve smiles hesitantly back. He still really isn't sure what to make of this, especially when Bucky looks to Princess Margaret, who nods, and then the prince ducks in to press his lips against Steve’s.

 

Steve gasps against them. He did not expect that. Not in front of Bucky’s wife, especially, but he can’t help but kiss back. He’s missed those lips, that hurried enthusiasm he always feels in Bucky’s kisses, like Steve is the taste of forbidden fruit to the prince. In some ways, he is.

 

He makes a sound of further surprise when he feels a second pair of lips, wet and warm where they start pressing against his neck. Steve feels a spike of fire ignite in his gut, hotter and quicker than he’s ever felt, at the realization the prince and the princess are both ravaging him with their mouths. When Bucky leans over, gently pushing Steve back, he succumbs. His back hits the mattress, and Bucky moves to straddle him while Peggy curls in against his side.

 

“We asked the king for a knight to come in, to tutor me in the act of lovemaking with him,” Peggy tells Steve conspiratorially. Bucky smiles, though it twists bitterly. “He let me choose.”

 

“But I know how to bed a woman,” Bucky explains, running a hand down Peggy’s chest. She shivers; so does Steve, just witnessing it. Bucky looks back at him, smile turning sad. “But--I nearly told you, once. I--I simply can’t force my prick to agree.” Steve distantly does remember. A night Bucky revealed he'd never fancied a woman, not ever. But he married Princess Margaret. Steve assumed even the most prude of men would melt in her presence.

 

“Your soul, darling,” Peggy corrects Bucky lovingly. “Your soul was meant for another man, that’s all.”

 

Bucky leans down to kiss her, and Steve watches, enraptured. They’re both so beautiful, so pale and lovely. He reaches to run his hands into Bucky’s hair, who groans and then moves to start kissing him. It’s gentle, almost lazy.

 

“But what can I do, then?” Steve asks when they finally break for air. Peggy strokes a hand down his heaving chest, something dark in her eyes as she’s watched them.

 

"I chose you for him, not me," she says, turning to Bucky. Steve can't help but feel begrudging admiration, realizing that must be true. She saw how Bucky looked at Steve, thought they might know one another even, and picked him for that reason. An entirely unselfish act. 

 

Bucky hesitates at Steve’s question. He leans back on his haunches. “I . . .” he says, eyes staring somewhere past Steve. Steve grabs his hand, squeezes it, and Bucky looks back down at him. “If  . . . you could, help me, I might be able to spill inside her. I _need_ to, somehow. We haven’t managed it yet.”

 

“Give him pleasure where I cannot,” Peggy adds, smiling sadly. But they both are looking down at Steve so earnestly, like he’s the answer to a prayer. He cannot find a single reason to protest. There’s certainly none in regards to his enjoyment of what’s to come.

 

“Of course. I’ll do whatever I’m able,” he says, trying to sound official and not too eager. There's the aftermath to reckon with later, after all.

 

But it must come off too much the opposite. Bucky’s face falls, though he smiles as he says, “I understand if. Don’t feel obligated if you—”

 

“Bucky,” Steve says earnestly this time, and sits up, the better to clutch the other man in his arms and kiss him again. The prince quickly melts into it, letting out a noise of relief. He understands. When Steve licks against Bucky’s lips the other man lets him in, lets him thrust his tongue in and out. It’s exhilarating—better than any quick tumble with a stable boy or fellow knight. It’s _Bucky_.

 

Bucky starts rolling his hips, letting Steve feel the bulge in his pants, and Steve groans in agreement. He pulls away just to get his shirt off, leaving Bucky in nothing but soft breeches.

 

Bucky looks over his shoulder though, eyes widening, and Steve follows his gaze. He realizes he nearly forgot they weren’t alone—but the princess doesn’t seem to have minded. She has one hand hiked under the skirt of her wrap, and it’s moving quickly as she watches them with dark eyes.

 

“You both look lovely,” she says, cheeks pinking.

 

“So do you,” Steve blurts out. He wonders for a moment if he’s crossed a line, saying that to the princess, but Peggy merely blushes deeper and Bucky starts nipping at Steve’s neck.

 

The prince murmurs, “Touch me, please,” and Steve is happy to comply. He pulls at the laces of Bucky’s trousers till they come loose and slips his hand in, feeling down and reaching Bucky’s half-hard prick. He pulls it out, stroking it slowly and Bucky groans, biting harder.

 

“Alright, alright,” he gasps, and suddenly climbs off Steve’s lap to wrestle out of his own breeches. Peggy quickly unties the sash of her wrap, completely bare underneath. Steve stares, then quickly averts his gaze. She is Bucky's; not for his eyes. Bucky moves to her, crawling over her body. Steve watches as they smile at one another, something sad in it. He can suddenly picture how many times the two have smiled bravely, as they attempted to couple and failed.

 

Bucky is kissing her, and he starts stroking her inner thighs before sliding fingers over Peggy’s slit. Steve swallows hard when the fingers disappear inside. Peggy gasps and Bucky buries his face in her neck, saying, “ _Steve_.”

 

Peggy holds out a hand to Steve, looking at him from over Bucky’s shoulder. They still need him, it would seem. He can’t say he’s sorry. Steve crawls over to them, and Peggy takes one of his hands to guide it back to Bucky’s prick.

 

It’s still a little interested, but not enough to go inside her. Steve knows.

 

Steve mouths against the back of his neck, coming up behind him as Steve starts stroking his prick. He ruts a little against the man’s bare ass, and Bucky groans. His prick twitches in interest, and Peggy lets out a gasp beneath them both from something Bucky must have done with his fingers.

 

“Try, try now,” Peggy says, a hand fluttering over Steve’s where it grips Bucky’s prick, and she guides him down to her entrance. Bucky’s just hard enough; he shudders as Steve positions his prick there, as Steve nudges him forward with his own hips.

 

Peggy lets out a loud “ahhhhh” of noise, wrapping arms around Bucky’s shoulders and pressing her nails into his skin as he penetrates her. A shudder of tension ripples down his spine. It’s an amazing thing to watch. Steve wonders if they’ve managed to get this far before—it can’t have happened often, at least, based on both their strong reactions. He’s breathing hard with them both, still touching Bucky and urging him on.

 

Bucky slowly starts thrusting, pulling sounds out of Peggy at every movement, and eventually she grabs his neck, pulling him into a kiss. “Steve, Steve we need you,” she says after breaking it off, and Bucky groans in frustration. “It’s alright love,” she tells him, “I shouldn’t have pushed, not when you’ve been doing so well.”

 

“Pegs, I’m sorr—” he says, stopping his thrusts, but Steve has managed to join them, pressed against Peggy’s side, and Peggy gently pulls Bucky by the neck toward Steve.

 

“Steve is here for you,” she replies breathlessly, watching them kiss. Bucky thrusts his hips as he thrusts into Steve with his tongue, and it seems to help. When Bucky breaks away Steve hardly gets a chance to breathe before Peggy pulls him to her mouth; it’s just as full as Bucky’s, but softer, more giving as Steve sits up a little and deepens it. He can feel her rocking with Bucky’s thrusts, and he’s not sure he’s ever been harder in his life.

 

Unfortunately, Bucky keeps moving, and Peggy rocks with it, and nothing really seems to escalate for a few minutes. “Peggy,” the prince gasps, red and overexerted, and Steve stops sucking on her nipple so she can answer properly.

 

“My love,” she replies, stroking his face.

 

Bucky slows and stops in defeat, laying on her breasts. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You did so well,” Steve can’t help but put in, running a hand through Bucky’s ruffled hair. The prince smiles at him with wet eyes.

 

“I wish . . .” Bucky starts, then his chin trembles and he stops himself. He pulls out, prick already softening. Peggy’s eyes are closed, but tears are falling from their corners into her hair. A rush of failure, which can’t be half as painful as what these two feel, moves over Steve as well. They were so close. _So_ close.

 

“What if—?” he thinks aloud, and Peggy’s eyes open. Bucky doesn’t react. “What if I really joined you?” Steve asks, and Peggy frowns.

 

“It has to be his heir. It can’t be anyone’s but his,” she reminds.

 

“It won’t ever be mine,” Bucky says, lifting his head to stare at his wife. “If you want a child . . . he could give it to you. ” Peggy's eyes overflow with tears again.

 

“No.” Bucky and Peggy look back at Steve in surprise. He smiles, a plan already forming in his head. “There’s one thing I want to try. It might help.”

 

A minute later the plan is laid out and Bucky and Peggy are in position again, the latter on her hands and knees this time as well. Steve opens the bottle of oil Peggy gave him, behind Bucky, and pours it onto his fingers. He hasn’t done this act with the prince in three years.

 

Not since their last night.

 

Bucky tenses then relaxes as Steve rubs against his hole; he probably hasn’t done this in the past three years at all. For some reason Steve is glad. It was the night Bucky pulled him into his chambers and begged for Steve to fuck him, after the Hydra army was defeated and they returned home, just before Prince James’s official engagement to Princess Margaret was announced. Steve remembers being bitterly angry, sparring for the next week straight trying to purge the hurt and the rejection inside. Meanwhile the princess arrived, and Steve watched from the crowd as Bucky bowed and kissed her gloved hand so regally.

 

Steve admires him for being so faithful to a woman he hadn’t even met before—but he’s also glad to be here with him again. And _with_ Princess Margaret no less, a greater woman than Steve had thought possible. He pushes back the selfish gladness that Bucky hasn't had an easy time of it since leaving Steve, like Steve hasn't; it does no good, not when he can see what a wonderful person Peggy is. He can't have any ill will towards her any longer.

 

Steve pushes a finger in, gently against the tight resistance, and Bucky groans. He slides it in and out, getting more oil in, then joins with a second finger, scissoring before crooking them both against that special spot. Bucky gasps, canting his hips forward. He’s so beautiful like that, so beautiful when he gives in. Steve feels around with his other hand, stroking the prince’s erect prick. He’s ready.

 

He’s already shed his clothes, but they closed the bed curtains out of the night air. It’s warm and close here, and Steve’s prick is already completely hard when he begins stroking oil onto it.

 

“Ready?” he leans over Bucky to whisper, and the man nods with a shudder. Steve lines up his prick with one hand, pressing it against the rim of Bucky’s stretched hole. He slips his fingers out and quickly replaces them with the head of his cock, which catches around the tight pucker.

 

“Doing so well, darling,” he can hear Peggy whisper as Steve pushes his way inside, Bucky keening. It’s been a long time—he might as well have never let Steve inside before, back during the war. Not that Steve is complaining. He tries to stay gentle, bottoming out and only inching back out before thrusting in with slightly less resistance.

 

Bucky opens up to him, though, and Steve is able to start a rhythm as he thrusts faster. His prick slides against that sensitive place, and he starts stroking Bucky through it, feeling him harden impossibly fast.

 

“Alright,” Bucky gasps, and Steve stops his thrusting. This is where it gets complicated. Peggy reaches a hand down, joining Steve’s again, and together they help Bucky inside her. She's wet and loose enough still that Bucky only has to push a little. Steve stays flushed against him, inside him, the entire time.

 

“In when I pull out, remember,” Steve says, and promptly pulls his cock back. Bucky thrusts forward, further into Peggy, and then Steve pulls him back by the hips, thrusting his cock forward.

 

It's working.

 

The double sensation is reducing Bucky to a senseless mess, but it’s working. Steve has to work harder to keep a rhythm, and at times he ends up just skewering the prince when he’s already thrust into Peggy--but it’s _working_. Bucky’s prick is thick and hard and he’s moaning in pleasure. Peggy herself sounds rather worked up, based on the sounds he can hear from her over Bucky’s shoulder.

 

Bucky starts getting louder, and then he says, “I-I think, I think I’m,” so Steve buries inside him and holds Bucky by the hips, moving with him to thrust inside Peggy without having to worry about Steve’s movement. They move as one, and Bucky’s loud breathing suddenly cuts off.

 

Peggy lets out a surprised “oh” with what can only be the sensation of being spilled inside. Steve’s felt it himself. Bucky stills, buried deep, and nearly collapses onto her.

 

There’s quiet for a few moments, and then Bucky starts laughing. Peggy does too, and Steve joins in just because it’s contagious, the sound. Their happiness. He pulls out of Bucky gently, and the prince immediately turns around to give him an enthusiastic, sleepy kiss. Then he goes down to give Peggy one, and she looks positively delighted, flipping on to her back.

 

“Thank you,” she says up to Steve as Bucky snuggles into her, her eyes bright and so genuine he feels his own start to water.

 

“It was my pleasure,” he says honestly.

 

But Bucky frowns, shaking his head and sitting up. “We’re not done yet. Just because I already finished doesn’t mean you two shouldn’t.”

 

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Peggy nods in agreement.

 

“He’s right. In fact, Steve, it’s your turn to lie back,” she says in an imperial tone, sitting up. Her voice demands obedience without question—and Steve is happy to obey.

 

Bucky grins, and they both crawl over him, taking turns kissing and touching. Peggy especially seems to like his chest, squeezing his pectoral muscles and pinching his nipples. Steve can’t say he minds. Bucky wraps a hand around Steve’s prick, which is hard and aching on his stomach, and starts playing with the head.

 

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, and without warning scoots down on the bed to wrap his lips around the head. Steve groans into Peggy’s mouth, and she twists a nipple sharply. His back arches without his control; it’s all too much, all at once. And Bucky seems to be quickly getting reacquainted with his prick, swallowing down more of it and stroking what he can’t. Steve is filled with so much sensation he’s ready to burst.

 

“May I?” Peggy says, pulling his hand down towards her, feeling the wet folds between her legs. He nods, stroking up and down them, then thinks of a better idea.

 

“Up here,” he says, tugging at her hips with a hand, and after a moment she seems to understand, surprised and cheeks pinking. He helps her straddle his face, smelling the heady scent of her aroused womanhood already.

 

Meanwhile Bucky pulls off to start playing with Steve’s balls, rolling them in his hands, and Steve wonders what it would be like to come with his prick being swallowed down and his mouth buried inside a woman. More than that, he’s wants to find out.

 

With Peggy poised above him he licks against her hole, occasionally flicking up against the mound where woman feel particular pleasure, while Bucky pleasures him. Steve pushes his tongue up inside her, and a rush goes through him when he recognizes the taste of Bucky’s come still inside. She groans, and Steve thrusts in and out, swiping up at her mound every now and then, almost too busy with her pleasure to focus on his own. Until Bucky reminds him again, of course.

 

But then Steve starts using his finger to thrust into her hole, and paying one-on-one attention to her mound with his tongue. Suddenly Peggy lets out a harsh cry, grounding against his face. Below, Bucky starts playing with Steve’s hole as he sucks him down, and Steve feels his own build-up crest over. He holds onto Peggy’s hips hard as he shoots into Bucky’s throat. He couldn’t give warning if he wanted to, not with Peggy claiming his mouth.

 

His mind seizes for a few seconds as he releases, then Steve feels himself sag, limbs all dropping at once. Peggy shakily climbs off him, burying her face into his neck as she wraps small arms around him. Bucky does the same from below, head resting on Steve’s abdomen. They’re a mess of bodies, of contentment, of joy.

 

“I love you,” Bucky says into his skin, and Steve and Peggy reply at the same time, “I love you too.”

 

Steve blanches, mortified, but Bucky and Peggy both laugh. Bucky scoots up to lie on Steve’s other side, looking down at him with loving eyes. “I missed you so much,” he says, and kisses Steve’s jaw before repeating, “so much.”

 

Steve feels so much, he doesn’t know how to express it. He’s been without this man for three years; he’s moved on. But he’s never stopped looking back, remembering it for what it was and what he knew he’d never find again.

 

But he’s not only here, with Bucky again, he also has lovely Peggy at his other side, who clearly adores Bucky just as much as he does, even if she can’t be all that she wants to for Bucky. Steve loves her for that. In fact, Steve is sure these two are rather perfect without him, despite their trouble in bed.

 

“We need you, Steve,” Peggy contradicts him, like she can hear his thoughts. She kisses his cheek softly. “Please stay.”

 

“Please,” Bucky whispers, nipping at his ear, and Steve doesn’t know why it’s a question.

 

“As long as you’ll have me,” he whispers back, wrapping arms around them both.

 

Peggy raises her head from his neck, looking all-at-once stern. “We’ll have you forever then, Steven. Bucky loves you; I adore you already. And we can’t do this without you.”

 

“But once you have an heir—” Steve points out, and Bucky snorts.

 

“We’ll have another. And another and another,” Bucky says, and his grin only widens when Peggy reaches across Steve to slap him on the arm. But there’s no hiding it; she’s smiling too. Steve looks between them, and wonders what he ever did to deserve to be here, feeling this kind of love.

  
It's the best place to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I might have a follow-up fic with a threesome baby . . .? We'll see on that one. 
> 
> As a person who is bi, I hope Steve's sexuality came across as genuine, not just a plot tool to start a threesome. People always leap to 'threesome!!' when they think of bisexual, which gets annoying. That's not my intent. But, obviously, a threesome does happen here so . . . Let me know what you guys think :))


End file.
